


Black Suit

by sublightsleeper



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 01:52:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6933136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sublightsleeper/pseuds/sublightsleeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry's always had a black suit hanging in his closet for funerals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Suit

His whole life has been punctuated by funerals. 

From his grandmother’s when he was five, until now, there has never been a moment in his life that there wasn’t a black suit in his size hanging ready in the closet. 

His mother’s funeral was the worst. Barry cried until his eyes were swollen, until his head throbbed with every thump of his pulse in his temples. He’d been alone then, an island of misery not connected to anyone, even as Joe sat next to him and Iris held his hand. 

But they all carried their own kind of misery. Eddie’s, with the police escort and the twenty one gun salute. Ronnie’s, with just the few of them standing around and empty grave. 

Eobard Thawne’s funeral existed solely in Barry’s mind, bleak and silent and monumental. A year and change, and he still feels like he’s standing under grey skies, watching a casket being lowered.

Laurel’s funeral was an old bruise pressed hard enough to be fresh again, his grief pale in comparison to Oliver’s loss. 

His father’s feels….hollow. Brittle. Like a strong breeze might shatter him into a thousand little pieces. He’s buried right next to Barry’s mother, and at least in death, Henry and Nora can be together again. 

He’s an afterthought, when it comes to Snart’s funeral. Mick is the one who delivers the news, who snarls _this is your fault, you did this_ but Sara is the one who comes to him and murmurs something about a ceremony, and closure. 

The black suit is laid out on his bed, pressed and neat and clean. It’s been less than a week since they put his dad in the ground. This isn’t fair. 

Barry sits on the floor beside his bed, head in his hands. He cries until his eyes hurt, until his chest hurts, his neck. His back. None of it is enough to eclipse to pain in his heart. 

He grieves for the man he knew, and for the hero he became. He grieves for the second chance cut short, for the first chance they never had. Barry has lost his parents, his friends. But he’d never known Caitlin’s misery until now, until he lost someone he loved.

He grieves for the words he never said, for the chance he never took. 

In the end, the suit stays on the bed, and Barry stays on the floor. Because in the end, for all the love turning sour in his chest, for all the loss that he feels…

He just can’t bring himself to believe Snart would have wanted him there.


End file.
